Amy looked at Mels and her eyes widened.
"Oh my god!" she said, pointing out the room. "Rory!"
She sped down the stairs, nearly tripping over the lopsided one. Rory was at the gate by the time she swung the front door open.
"Oi, stupid!" she called.
Rory turned around slowly, wincing in preparation. "Um, yeah?"
"Why'd you run off?"
"Ten years I've known you and you didn't realise? Ten years?"
"It's not like I –"
"Ten years, Amy!"
The incredulous look on his face burned through her. She stared at her feet.
"Sorry."
Rory adjusted the strap on his satchel so it didn't cut into his shoulder.
"Look, I've gotta go," he murmured, lifting the gate lock with his left hand and starting down the path.
Amy rolled her eyes. "Oh for goodness' sake," she muttered, before leaning over the white points of the gate. "Aren't you going to ask me out?" she shouted at him.
"What?" he said, pivoting on the spot.
"You've waited ten years, can you possibly wait a little longer?"
"What do you mean?
"Could you wait until, say, Saturday, 7pm?"
His green eyes met her hopeful brown. He raised his eyebrows a little before nodding. "Amy, I could wait forever."
"Good," she said chirpily, before kissing his cheek.
He raised his hand to touch the spot her lips had graced, but was shoved back by Amy.
"Stop being a creep! Get home, you!"
He laughed. "You're so… Scottish!"
"Really?" she asked, voice loaded with sarcasm. "Now go!"
He gave a short wave before motioning his thumb over his shoulder. "Bye, Amy."
"Bye, Rory."
